My life coach rocks

I believe that everyone ought to have a personal board of directors in their life… especially in your 20s. I’m only six years into this (thank god it’s halfway over!), but figuring out finances, romances, career aspirations, and general living sense eludes me from time to time. I seem to bump along fine for a few months, then WHAM! I get something that completely throws me off-kilter. I was just entering shaky ground when I met Jenny Ferry, a life coach.

Now, Jenny and I have never actually met, but I can imagine exactly how she would be from our phone and email interaction. Her warmth actually radiates in every hello via phone and every earnest closing of an email. Not many people can pull off that kind of emotion with sincerity, in this skeptic’s book.

Jenny specializes in helping twenty-something women find direction in whatever it is their having trouble with. We started by identifying what that might be for me. Just picking one or two things to work on was a challenge in and of its self. I believe my words were, “Ugh. Where do I start??” I was working two jobs, running my small business and writing this blog. I was in a new relationship and I was training for a half-marathon. I was just about to freak out.

I took a quick diagnostic survey. The career portion practically leapt off the page at us. That was definitely where we needed to start. Then there was this “fun” category. Fun? What’s that? Work is fun, I said. Heh. We were still going to work on it. “We’ll just sprinkle it in,” Jenny said. I could go along with that.

We tackled my four jobs first. I told her I felt like I had the ability to do all of these really great things, but I didn’t know how to pick just one, or even two to pursue. She helped me break it down and get it on paper. Once we did some simple evaluation and took a look at it, I was blown away. Right there, in black and white, I could see what was most important to me out of my four “jobs.” Blogging was by far and away my number one passion. It was followed closely by my marketing job, then came the café (which lost major points in the income category), and trailing abysmally behind was the one I was putting the most effort into – my IT company. According to that sheet of paper, it was my least favorite thing to do. And I had to agree.

“What can we take off your plate?” Jenny asked. Jenny always asks the hard questions. I drew my breath in sharply and deeply. Hearing me, she said, “Why don’t you spend some time on this one. Let me know what you come up with.” I talked over it with friends, and I thought about it. I looked at that sheet of paper and my decision was clear. I’ve since put the company on indefinite hold. I still have one client who doesn’t require much attention at the moment, but no efforts are being made to attract new ones. I’ve been able to concentrate on my blog more and to scale back my hours at the café so that it’s less work and more just-for-fun.

Jenny challenges me to step outside my boundaries in order to pursue what I want. At her suggestion, I have: asked for my hours to be changed at work, found a mentor at the corporate level, taken a relaxing bath, and have begun researching business schools for my MBA. I didn’t even know I wanted to get an MBA before I started working with Jenny. I was afraid to say that I want the thing that everyone says I don’t need.

One major exercise we did was crafting my life purpose statement. This single sentence would be a tuning fork for my entire life that I could use at any point to see if I was “in tune” with what I felt my life’s purpose was. I was definitely skeptical. After all, I’ve spent at least 14 years trying to find my purpose in life. I was a philosophy major, for crying out loud. In one hour, I’m going to find my life purpose. Yeah, right.

Yeah, right! My life purpose statement kicks some major ass. It is Holly with a capital H. I can go through my week knocking that tuning fork and know pretty much whether or not I’m lined up with my life’s purpose. It soothes me, it invigorates me, but most importantly, it reminds me of who I am and who I want to be. A life purpose statement is really personal, so I’m not going to share it here. You’ll just have to become friends with me and ask.

What Jenny does as a life coach is help define my goal and bring it into focus. We find my obstacles, which are usually my own limits, and then she promptly challenges me to knock them down. She does this with warmth, passion, enthusiasm and empathy. If we were in the same town, I have no doubt every meeting would end with a squeeze. But the woman will make you work – trust me. And in that work, you find yourself. You find these amazing little gems (courage, confidence, self-awareness) that were already inside of you, but you just didn’t know how to access.

I feel more in tune with myself and with my goals, and I feel more confident in the path I’m taking to achieve them. So often my 20s have felt like blindly groping for I-don’t-know-what in a black room. Jenny helps me shed a little light on what I’m looking for and how to grab it.

Allowing the Writer Within to Shine Through

It just hit me: I’m a writer.

It seems pretty silly that I’ve been blogging here at WorkLoveLife for eight months now, and I’ve only just realized that I’m a writer. This is not unique to me, I know. As blogging becomes more and more popular, others I read have questioned at what point you become a writer. And still others have argued against calling yourself a blogger at all.

I’ve come to realize in the past few months that writing has a place in my soul. It allows me to purge, it allows me to mull and remember, and it allows me to connect. And I love words. I took Latin throughout high school, which really boosted my vocabulary. I love the idea in linguistics that the more words we know, the more efficiently and effectively we are able to communicate. I love finding the perfect word or set of a words that most accurately conveys what I’m trying to say. And I even like that I can’t always find them… indescribable is a good place to be, in my book.

But today, I realized that I am writer. Not just a blogger or a lover of words or a novice, even.

The past few days have been hectic – work is hectic and I have meeting and appointments crammed into every nook and cranny of my waking hours. This evening is my first free evening since Friday. I have a half-marathon I signed up for in two weeks that I am ill-prepared for. Tonight could be a night for training. But when I asked myself do you want to run or do you want to write? Would you like to do the half-marathon or would you like to write? The answer reverberated throughout my head: We want to write.

So I didn’t bring my running clothes. I brought my laptop. Because when I neglect my running, I don’t feel half so unbalanced as when I neglect my writing.

I’d like to be a great many things in my life, and I imagine I wouldn’t be great at many of them, but it sure would be fun. My life coach says that I should honor the Holly Who Writes if I want to – I don’t have to be the Holly Who Runs Marathons right now. That’s pretty amazing to me. I thought if I was one, I couldn’t be the other.

I know that the Holly Who Runs Marathons is inside of me, but right now, it’s time for the Holly Who Writes to shine through. Not everything has to be done at once, and not everything has to be done to the nth degree. What a concept.

Photo courtesy Shiny Things via Flickr Creative Commons.

A schedule monger no longer

When I was in high school and college, I did not doodle fruitlessly as so many other students did. Well, I did that too, but I what I really loved was making schedules of my to-do lists. Take your typical to-do list, put it on steroids and map it across the hours. I made to-do schedules for the rest of the day (drawn up in quarter-hours and containing items like “eat dinner” and “read Being and Time pgs 48-101) all the way up to the month, semester, even year (divided up by months and containing items like “graduate” and “find job”).

It soothed me. When I got my new job (15 months ago now) and started my various other jobs, meetings, dating, etc. I bought a good old paper day tracker and carried it with me everywhere. It’s pretty cool to look back to a year ago and see what I was doing then. It is way more detailed than my memory.

Lately, though, my schedule-making hasn’t been soothing me.

Ever since Date #4 and I became exclusive, the art of scheduling has started to elude me. Some of you might say this is a good thing, that being so scheduled is being too rigorous and well, uptight. Date #4 is not a plans kind of guy, which does get under my skin a bit. I don’t think either of us is right or wrong, like I might’ve believed in the past (pre-sobriety); it’s just a difference in the way we live our lives. The cool thing is that he recognizes it and understands me. The other morning, for example, I asked if he was staying over later that night. He wasn’t sure. Around lunch, he still didn’t know: “I know you don’t like not knowing, but I’m still not sure yet.” I was OK with that. I merely wanted to know whether or not I should go ahead and fix dinner for myself.

So, part of the problem is that since Date #4’s plans are never settled, I don’t feel settled. If it were up to me, I would have everything through this weekend planned. It’s very uncomfortable for me to not even know whether or not he’s going to be in town, if we're going to hang out, etc. Not because of him, but because schedules soothe me. They are predictable and I know what to expect. The underlying roots of this are actually one of the things I’m working on with my counselor.

The real reason my schedule-making hasn’t had the soothing effect I’m used to getting is that now that I realize why it is that I do it. I also realize that becoming upset when things don’t go according to plan and sticking to it for the sake of sticking to it are just manifestations of a perceived threat, that threat being inconsistency and instability, which are not actually present in my life.

Looking back at a post from just a few months ago, I realize how far I’ve come. And that in itself soothes me.

Some things really are sacred

I won’t be writing as much about love and relationships as I have been lately. I do, however, want to explain why because I am very committed to being open and honest with you guys. While it didn’t take me long to make this decision, it was a difficult one. My readers have told me repeatedly that they enjoy my relationship posts the most and that made it difficult, because I want to give you what you like to read.

That said, two big things came up yesterday, aided by one little comment on another blog. One is that I have entered weekly counseling. If you read this blog regularly, then you know I’ve been in a funk. And since I’ve always been completely honest with you all, you seem to know me, and you’ve been asking if I’m OK. After a few months of trying different things (exercise, diet, time alone, time together, on meds, off meds, relaxing), I’ve come to the conclusion that I can’t fix this one on my own.

A major part of my counseling centers around what it is that makes a strong, independent, intelligent young woman like myself turn into a weak, self-doubting nervous wreck in relationships. Call me crazy, but I think I need to give myself some privacy to work out these issues. My counselor has also asked me to keep the content of my sessions between him and me. Besides, I really don’t think you’ll want any relationship advice from the likes of me.

Also, Date #4 has been an avid reader since we first got together. The freedom I have enjoyed thus far in letting my writing roam far and wide through my relationship-related thoughts has lasted a lot longer than I thought it would. At this point in my relationship, I think it’s time to back off for both our sakes. I have to admit that there are posts I have would have a hard time dealing with if I were in his shoes.

A special thanks to Dad’s House here. The author responded in his own comment section on writing about relationships while they are ongoing: “In fact, I don’t blog about any relationships while I’m in them, out of respect to the other person.” It honestly hadn’t occurred to me that I was being disrespectful to Date #4 by broadcasting my joys, fears, and issues regarding our relationship to the world. Like I said, I’m not sure you want to take relationship advice from me.

Now, don’t think that I’m being secretive. I am happy to answer any questions you might have, love-related or otherwise, via email. Those of you who have emailed with me know I’m an open book. And this isn’t to say I won’t ever blog about love, my relationship, etc. I will, but only when I can be as open and honest as you are used to me being and can offer you something valuable without hurting anyone in the process.

Hey, maybe I’ve achieved some work/love balance after all.

Photo by dimi15 via Flickr.

Work/love balance: The new work/life balance struggle

When I began to hear the phrase “work/life balance” thrown around, I figured it didn’t apply to me. It was my older coworkers with family who mostly used it. Work/life balance meant “time with the kids and spouse.” So I dismissed it. It had nothing to do with me, single childless Holly who has the energy to work three or four jobs and train for marathons.

Then I got a boyfriend.

Anyone who has read this blog for the past 8 weeks or so knows that I’ve struggled to keep everything on my plate plus boyfriend on the side, but things keep slipping off like some overly eager kid’s plate at the dessert buffet. I’ve talked to friends, mentors, even a life coach, listed my priorities, and promptly removed… nothing.

There are so many things I want to pursue that I can’t imagine cutting anything. It’s asking a lot that I’m not adding anything. 

So, I’ve struggled to show the boyfriend that I am committed to us, that I’m willing to put in the time, that I want to spend time together. Actually, that might not be true. I think all I’ve really done is figured out ways to carve out pieces of the week where I can relax or do some work with him. At any rate, this is a new class of balancing act for me – the work/life balance.

Huh? Work-what balance? To me, life and work are fairly seamlessly integrated. I’m not sure what I’d rather be doing on a Sunday besides sitting in my favorite café with a hot chocolate, blogging my guts out. Who wouldn’t want to be integrating a printer into a wireless network on a Tuesday evening? I can honestly say that most nights I would rather be slinging coffee than watching television on the couch.

Instead of saying “Life? What life?” I have “Work? What work?” Unfortunately, it does take up a lot of time though, and I wonder at the end of the day what kind of energy I have leftover for my relationship – for love. I would say the majority of nights I dive headlong into my bed and I’m literally lights out before the BF flips the switch.

So what does this new work/love balance thing mean? I’m not really sure. I can’t say I’ve got it figured out. Perhaps it’s a sign of my youth, but mostly fear swirls around it. If you’re in love, should you place a higher value on that rather than your work? Should one or the other be the entrée and the other the side dish? Is it a matter of finding a person who makes you want to stop spending so much time on your work, makes you think it’s the higher value automatically? Is my relationship to my work and career so perverse that I should just give up on love altogether?

In all honesty, I am sometimes struck with the fear that my work is my only one true love in life. I have no doubt that God made me and business out of the same clay, sprinkling entrepreneurship in my blood like stars in the sky. It’s always there for me, ready to make my day, impatient when I’m away and greeting me with new ideas and excitement. Where does love fit into my already-existent love affair with work?

I glance at the title of my website, WorkLoveLife. People have asked me if that’s how I prioritize the three, if it means anything special. Honestly, it was the only combination of those three words available for a domain name. But, maybe that is it’s significance in my life – at the end of the day, I make work, love and life fit together the only way available to me.

Photo by RaidersLight.

Finding Your Primary Aim Becomes Critical When Taking On a Partner

When I first decided that I wanted to have my own company, someone recommended that I pick up a copy of “E-Myth Revisited” by Michael Gerber. That book has had an indelible impact on my life and the way I approach my business.

Last month I asked a colleague who I have collaborated with often if he would like to come on board my little company as a partner. The decision to start a business was a big one for me, and I’m very passionate about it. I know that sacrifices will have to be made, relationships may become strained, and free time might become non-existent. These are all things I am willing to take on for my business.

So when approaching my potential partner, I needed for both of us to be sure that this would be a good fit. He understands the role he would be taking on, and the responsibilities that go along with it. The thing that most people don’t realize is that this is like a marriage. You have to make sure that you’re compatible and that you want the same things for your future.

I turned to “E-Myth” for help. Gerber emphasizes the need for all business owners to first clarify what their primary aim is. Part of the reason so many people start their own businesses is so that they can live the life they want. It’s important to sit down and intentionally design the life you want to lead. Once your purpose and mission is clear, then you can start to build a company that will help you accomplish that life.

These are the questions Gerber says you need to answer:

1. What do I wish my life to look like?
2. How do I wish my life to be on a day-to-day basis?
3. What would I like to be able to say I truly know in my life, about my life?
4. How would I like to be with other people in my life – my family, my friends, my business associates, my customers, my employees, my community?
5. How would I like people to think about me?
6. What would I like to be doing two years from now? Ten years from now? Twenty years from now? When my life comes to a close?
7. What specifically would I like to learn during my life – spiritually, physically, financially, technically, intellectually? About relationships?
8. How much money will I need to do the things I wish to do? By when will I need it?

I have already answered the questions, and now my potential partner is working on them. When he finishes, we’ll share our answers with each other. Based on that, we’ll be able to see what each other want for the future, and whether or not this company will be a vehicle for both of us to those lives.

By the way, I recommend these questions to anyone searching for purpose in his or her life or for clarification thereof, whether starting a business or not.

Why I might be OK with having children

If you haven’t read my previous post about my issues with mamahood, then go for it so you can get an idea of how serious I’ve been about not wanting kids. My sentiments are also echoed here and here [hat tip: Penelope Trunk; TwentySet]. Now, bear in my mind that the decision I’m scrutinizing is my own, and not the decision of whether or not to have kids in the empirical sense.

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about this lately, primarily because (of course) it is an issue in my fledgling relationship. Granted, we’ve both agreed that it’s not an immediate issue, but he would like to have at least one child with whomever he marries. It’s no secret that I’m crazy about the man, but I’m not willing to agree to children just because that’s what he wants.

We have had a lot of conversations about it though, and it's got me thinking about it on my own. As I began to examine my issues with having kids, talking about it openly and honestly with friends of differing ages, marital and child status, and watching people with kids more closely, I started to realize how close-minded I’ve been.

I began to realize that my problem is not with actually having kids, but that they become an end in themselves and not a side effect of living the life I’d like.

A few things happened leading up to this realization. One, I’ve been talking with a mentor of mine who is 50 and has the coolest relationship with her daughter I’ve ever seen. I have no qualms being totally open and honest with her, even with the ugliest parts of myself. She pointblank told me one afternoon that I was being close-minded when it came to my thinking regarding family life. I realized that I was assigning arbitrary labels to people and making assumptions about their lives based upon that. Married, divorced, middle-aged, overweight, with or without kids, single, thin, etc. Does the label make the experience of the life?

Somewhere around that same time I was leaving Date #4’s house, and an early-thirties-ish couple walked by with a stroller and a grandparent in tow. They were just taking a Fourth of July stroll after a fresh rain, chatting and such. “That’s probably the best thing that could ever happen to me,” was the unwelcome thought that popped into my head. Whoa. Where’d that come from?

On my drive home, I rolled it around in my head and realized the truth of it. I’ve seen a lot of families that are happy, in which the parents continue to live dreams independent of their children. While their families greatly enhance their happiness, their kids are supplemental to the happiness that they already experience in life. They are not, and never did, expect children to be the main source of their happiness in life. They are simply one of the aspects of their life that they derive joy out of.

I have been watching a few families in my life since I began to seriously evaluate this issue. One is a young couple who have probably the cutest baby girl I’ve ever seen. I’ve said before that if I could insure that a child of mine would come out that cute, happy and well-mannered, I’d have kids without a doubt. The thing is that I watch the parents, too. They’re happy, and appear to be very much in love. I’m not close to them, and so they may have more problems than I’m aware, but they seem like fairly transparent people. I see them together, separate, and with their families. I won’t lie – there is a part of me that craves a normal family life because of the dysfunctional part of mine. They are always friendly and seem to possess a sense of peace about their lives.

I also watch my older female mentor and her family closely. She’s been a single mom for a long time, and her daughter is a well-adjusted, intelligent young woman. She has self-confidence at 13 that I still wish I had. The openness and frankness with which they deal with the little and big things in their lives is truly inspiring to me. It gives me goose bumps. That family probably has the most irreverent sense of humor I’ve been privy to and they have a lot of fun in their lives. It’s clear that they simply enjoy the ride.

Finally, I watch the families that make me not want kids. In doing so, I’ve come to realize that the thing that bothers me is not that they have children, but what their intentions or preconceived notions were in doing so. They all have a few things in common for the most part. One is that they had their children too young and/or too soon into a relationship/marriage. I’ve watched people have kids and treat them as accessories, and I’ve seen people have kids because they wanted something to love. They were trying to fill a hole that remains unfilled. And now they have kids to take care of when they didn’t know how to take care of themselves in the first place. (Side note: I was in the ER with my grandmother last night and a 17-year-old came in with impacted bowels, i.e. constipation. Her second birth and she didn’t realize that she should’ve been drinking lots of water, eating fiber, and probably shouldn’t have waited a week to tell the doctors she hadn’t had a bowel movement. If you can’t take care of yourself, how will you raise a child?)

I guess my point is that as Gen-Y women we’ve been told that “having it all” is a myth. That makes me feel like I have to choose between my career and having a child. It’s saying that I won’t be able to do both. While I know that to some extent one suffers at the hands of the other, I’ve been watching this young couple juggle a baby and a new business successfully. By successful, I mean that the baby is clearly happy and well cared for, the business is doing very well, and they both seem extremely happy and still in love, though at times admittedly tired.

It gives me hope. Perhaps I can live life happily without any sacrifices.

Introducing a new person into your life

When I met Date #4, I wasn’t looking for anything serious. I was simply mixing a little business with pleasure when my online dating research yielded a surprising result – a dateable, attractive man with whom I was compatible. My life was run at a hectic, but efficient and highly effective pace. There simply wasn’t a whole lot of room. I liked it that way.

Things started slowly. I told him I wasn’t looking for anything serious, that I was, ahem, very busy and important. No time for a relationship, not looking for that sort of thing. He said he understood, respected my priorities, etc.

Then I fell in love with him.

The “serious” thing needed revising, obviously. As two people are apt to do when they find they enjoy one another’s company, we spent a lot of time together. 

A lot.

I stopped running. I stopped blogging as regularly. I stopped doing laundry and grocery shopping. I was deep in Cloud Cuckoo Land, as I like to call it. That place where newly formed couples spend way too long looking into each other’s eyes, sleeping really late on weekends, and having lots and lots of hot monkey sex. 

As much as I knew this was going to happen, I couldn’t stop it. Perhaps I didn’t want to stop it. What the hell? Falling in love is fantastic. Why skip all the fun stuff and move straight into routine? 

Incorporating Date #4 into my life isn’t the same as making a new friend or having a relative move into town. This is someone that I hope to have a meaningful relationship with. Anyone who has been in a relationship for a period of time knows that it takes time to get to know someone. I liked Date #4 and I wanted to learn about him – that takes time. Granted, you can take your time getting to know someone, but I tend to be an extremist with a “good” button instead of an “easy” button. If it makes me feel good or happy, I’ll slam that damn button till it’s broke. Luckily, I didn’t do that here.

Armed with a little bit of knowledge of myself and my habits, I tried to resist Cloud Cuckoo Land, but it was simply too alluring. GIWS and I had managed to see each other only once a week, twice tops, throughout the few months we dated. I tried to do this again, but to no avail.

When I got sick (again), my frustration reared its head. I had gained 5 lbs. I was completely out of racing shape. I’d been eating entire meals out of the vending machines at work. Thanks to my fourth sinus infection this year, I was waylaid and unable to stay awake long enough to do anything other than go to work. I reached my breaking point when my libido disappeared. WTF?!

A week later, I got better and I got some perspective. Date #4 and I have been together for only two months. I realized that I could maintain my old schedule and kick him out of my life or I could find a new routine. That period of everything going to hell was just a slash-and-burn method of prepping the soil for a new life. One that involves the man that I love and all the activities I love.

What I ended up having to do was first explain to him what was going on in my head. He understood and didn’t take it personally at all, which was essential for me to feel comfortable moving forward. I explained to him that there are a lot of things I enjoy doing that I haven’t been doing lately, and that I need a routine or schedule in order to make it all fit into my life.

I looked at my schedule, needs and priorities. I looked at his schedule, needs and priorities. He has two dogs, so he can’t stay over too often. I live out of the way of my work and his house, so I have to bring all my stuff for work if I’m staying over. It made more sense to do all that if I were staying two nights in a row. For both of our sanity and respect of personal space, I decided two nights apart would be good for us. Thus, a schedule emerged. I would stay with him Wednesdays and Thursdays, and he would stay with me on Tuesdays and Fridays. Sundays and Mondays we had off, and Saturdays I left to whim (even I don’t try to plan everything).

I make sure to bring my running shoes to his place and try to take the dogs out with me. I also run on the evenings we’re not seeing each other. The beginning of the week can be overwhelming for me, so that’s why I picked those two days to spend apart. It gives me the time to work on my blog, get my clothes ready for the week, and to generally spend time with myself, which I think is important in any relationship.

Once I identified the problem and communicated that to him, I was able to then ask, what now? How can I have both – him and my old life? Planning the nights was a great first step. It allows me to plan what will need to happen and when. The other stuff is simply up to me. Once I finished the relay marathon I had spent months training for in May, I had a hard time staying motivated, so I signed up for a race on July 4 and started looking for more to keep me running.

Maybe this is easy for some people to figure out, but I was really happy being single. My life was happy and whole when I met Date #4, so much in fact that if it weren’t for my sister’s sage advice to not let opportunities pass me by, I probably wouldn’t have made the leap.

I’m glad that I did, but that period of transition can be tough. I think it’s important to be honest with yourself, to communicate your frustration without laying any blame, and to get into the solution. Dwelling in the problem while I was sick yielded nothing but a depressing blog post (sorry!). Once I decided to try a solution, I was already feeling like my old self and it didn’t take long to get back on track.

Oh, and my libido came back. Thank god.

[Photo credit: Evan Romine]

When "Relaxation" Becomes Plain Lazy

I’m staring back at my reflection wearily. I’ve just finished washing my face for bed when I realize why I’m so tired of looking at myself in the mirror every night. It smacks me it comes back so suddenly. This is what you looked like before you got a grip, I remember.

There’s a lack of color here. There’s been a lack of color since… since… when did it fade? Somewhere around falling in love and completing my relay marathon only a month ago. I used that week after the race to “reward myself.” I let myself eat poorly and slack off on my training… way off. As in, didn’t do it all.

That week has yawned into a month.

I can feel the little roll at tummy when I slump in my bad posture. It isn’t just that my face has lost color and that I have probably put on two or three pounds. I haven’t been sleeping enough, not what I call a healthful amount. I haven’t been going to enough meetings and I can feel that my spiritual well-being is affected. I’ve been eating entire meals out of the vending machine at work.

This isn’t the dark cloud of grief that rolled overhead back at the beginning of April. This is laziness. Knowing how to pick myself up and not being willing to do the work to bring that about. In my 12-step program, we say that when the pain is enough, we will act.

Luckily my threshold for pain has become amazingly low. Tonight, one glance in the mirror does the trick. I’m tired of being lazy, I assert to my innermost self. This sucks. Let’s quit this shit and get on with the rest of it.

I could go on and on as to why this has happened – work has been slow and uninspiring, a new relationship needs attention, there are things to do besides train for races that are months away. Excuses. Excuses I’ve been willing to make and accept because I am lazy and unmotivated. So here I am. Out of racing shape, pallid faced with an upset stomach and three pounds heavier. I’ve even been reduced to participating in pointless blog commenting, something I usually have enough serenity to not get involved in.

This one is all on me. I’ve written before about accountability partners and the wonders they can work for helping you to stay motivated. That’s fine and well, unless you stop calling them… especially when you want to avoid being, er… accountable.

In the past I could spend an entire blog post on how I’m going to pull my shit together, exactly what I’ll do and in what order to get things back on track, reassure you the reader that I am indeed doing it. And then promptly sit on my ass for two more weeks before I finally follow through. I won’t do that here. I’m not sure when my motivation will come back to me or when exactly I’ll decide that it’s been enough.

I think I just did though.

Forget Relaxation - Take A Bliss Break

It’s been suggested that I’m wound a *little* tight. I’ll be the first to admit that I have problems relaxing. I tend to be sort of a black-or-white, stop-or-go kind of person, at least when it comes to my work and myself. For the past five months or so, I haven’t been able to let go of this tension. I’ve sort of had this feeling that I need it to keep going, that somehow relaxing would cause me to lose my momentum. 

On the other hand, I know that I need to relax every now and then; otherwise I won’t be as productive as I could be. And so it has been with this in mind – increased productivity – that I have set about trying to “relax.” Like any good workaholic, I schedule a break. I cordon off a largish chunk of the day and I say this is where I will relax. 

It never works. For some reason all I can think is something along the lines of “Hurry up and relax so we can get revitalized and work better!” It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that not a lot of relaxing gets done this way. And yet, bull-headed and not really knowing any other way of doing it, I keep trying the same thing expecting different results.

So when Date #4 asked if I would like to steal away to his property in the Hill Country for the weekend, I said yes without a second thought. I wondered if it were possible that I could actually unwind finally. Would I be able to release the tension I’d been holding so tightly to me for the past five months?

I won’t lie: I brought my laptop with me and double-checked with D#4 that there would indeed be Internet access. And bless his heart, he let me bring it, warning me that I wouldn’t want it once I got there.

Indeed, as we drove onto smaller-still roads that turned to gravel, I thought two things: one, is he gonna kill me out here; and two, you’d have to get me this far away from things to quiet my mind. I am pleased to report that the majority of the weekend was spent in sleep (10 hours every night for three nights), in bed (ahem), reading fiction (fiction?!), talking, or hiking and swimming.

The weekend was in a word blissful. (Merriam-Webster defines bliss as "complete happiness.") I had let go of every thought of work, this blog, my company… I wasn’t consciously attempting to relax. I had sort of given up on the idea. I finally let go of the part of myself that felt guilty or anxious for indulging in day-long pajama-wearing or 48 hours without e-mail (gasp!).

I came back to work refreshed and ready to tackle a lot of projects I’d been putting off. I was much more focused than I had been (that might have had something to do with all of the sleep I got), and my mind was swirling with new business ideas. And, of course, this post.

What is the most blissful thing you could do for yourself? Maybe it’s as simple as a pedicure, calling in a sick day to go surf, or spending 48 hours in the country. Try to make it happen this weekend. See how much more productive you are on Monday.

The Subtle Allure of A Life More Ordinary (or the Brainwashing of American Women)

There’s something about magazines like Real Simple and TV shows like House Hunters that depresses me. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but every time I attempt a sit on the couch post-work I am irritated by things like Everybody Loves Raymond. There’s a part of me that is suspicious that these forms of entertainment have been created to make us believe that not only are you content with your life, but you are enthusiastic about it, a subtle (or not-so-subtle, in my opinion) brainwashing of home-improving, toddler-yogaing, exasperated-but-happy-at-the-end-of-the-day, we’re-the-same-kind-of-unique status quo. Welcome to the new yuppiedom.

Maybe I’m just feeling particularly fed up with the new American dream this evening, as I sit in my underwear, toenails unpainted and unmanicured, eating Oreos with orange juice, wondering why I’m throwing 5 months of perfectly good conditioning down the drain. Maybe it’s that I’ve recently fallen in love and have caught myself twice already daydreaming into that magical land I call Not A Chance in Hell.

That place involves a relationship that can survive my apparent two-year statute of limitations with a guy who looks like a J. Crew model, a baby as cute and happy as the one that couple at the café has that will magically disappear when it needs to be fed/changed/burped or cries inexplicably, a house that requires little-to-no maintenance which of course we obtained at a steal, a thriving business that I built and doesn’t require me to be around all the time, and a Holly who does not feel overwhelming pinned-down and caged by it all.

Puh-shaw.

That’s when I turn off the TV. And call Real Simple to remind them, once again, that I unsubscribed two months ago. I fight off the sneaking suspicion that somehow, somewhere my father has bribed a Starbucks barista to spike my lattes with hormones. I have been told repeatedly that one day I will want all of these things. When I get a case of the I-just-want-to-be-upper-middle-class blues, I daydream another life.

In this life I usually am married, or in a long-term committed relationship. Yes, I am happy and content being single, but like many, I would like to have a companion through life. I think a character in Shall We Dance? sums it up best when she says people get married so that in a world of billions, one person says they will be the witness to your life. I agree with this. 

At any rate, 90 percent of me says no to kids. This is mostly a financial decision in my mind. Yes, I know you can be financially well off and have kids also, but the majority of folks are not. Here are a few examples of childless couples who are financially better off than their peers (especially where it comes to retirement). And here’s an entire online community dedicated to couples who have chosen not to have kids for a variety of reasons. I take comfort knowing that I'm not the only one out there like me.

Mostly, though, this daydream life is about being able to do the things I am passionate about without any compromises or guilt feelings, such as diving tirelessly into my own businesses, having a partner who I still find sexually appealing, coming nowhere close to any variety of poop/snot/vomit, and traveling at will and on whim.

I have nightmare versions of both of my daydreams, too. There’s one that revolves around divorce, debt, failed parenthood and suburbia, and there’s one that mostly involves being alone for the rest of my life realizing at 47 that all I really ever wanted was a family. These things occur to me. It also occurs to me that none of these scenarios are realistic, and that in life we end up somewhere in the middle. The glory part is that I actually know that I will be happy whichever dream I pursue or end up with inadvertently (life has a way of surprising us). My happiness resides within me, whatever the exterior.

In the meantime, no more HGTV for me. Or Oreos for that matter.

How I Maturely Ended a Relationship… For the First Time

Guy I’ve Been Seeing and I hadn’t seen each other in probably two weeks. With the website taking off at the same time as my IT consultancy, I had become insanely busy. GIBS was almost equally busy with his career. When we were seeing each other, it was pretty much for, er, one thing.

During this particularly long stretch between sightings, I’d got to thinking about our relationship. Hold on a second. I just said relationship. That’s not what’s supposed to happen. GIBS is thus named for a reason. I had such a mortal fear of saying BF, GIBS was the shortest description I could come up with to describe our association to friends and family members. But here it was four or five months into it, and how long could you possibly just be “dating” someone?

With my career taking off in so many different directions, I knew time was going to be limited. I got to thinking about GIBS though. All of this really great stuff pretty much started because of him and that question he asked on our second date. He was always there for me – supporting me, holding me accountable, pushing me through the tough parts when I wanted to give up. He could pump me up when I needed it, and he could celebrate my successes. And he genuinely felt them. I could pretty much tell him anything. I respected his opinion and sought his advice on most things.

Holy crap, I thought. He’s one of my best friends.

I certainly didn’t want to ruin things with my best friend. At the same time, I knew that it wasn’t going to work as a couple. Neither one of us were cut off for coupledom, at least for the time being. We’d talked repeatedly about our relationship fears, our happiness in being single, etc. Every time I ended something with someone though, we never really stayed friends. We might talk, but it eventually tapered off or imploded when I realized they were holding onto the friend card thinking I would change my mind.

I talked it over with one of my mentors (people, if you haven’t already, find an older person you respect, admire and talk openly with on all matters). I decided honesty was the best policy. I sort of had this feeling that he might be feeling the same way I was anyhow.

So our schedules finally synced up and we went for sushi. We talked about the great and busy things in our lives – my new apartment, his new house, my IT consultancy taking off, his big trips coming up.

“Well, it sounds like we’ve both got really full lives right now,” I commented, looking down at the table. I raised my eyes and gave him a knowing look. He met my eyes and I could tell he was thinking the same thing.

“Look, with all this stuff going on, it just seems like maybe we don’t have time for a relationship,” I pushed through.

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking that lately, too,” GIBS agreed, looking relieved.

“Here’s the thing though,” I continued. “You’ve actually become really important to me.” I told him everything I’d realized about he and I as friends. I told him that he’d become one of my best friends and that friendship is a rung higher than a relationship in my book.

“So you don’t want me to just go away?” he asked.

“No!” I reassured. “Look, I need you as a friend.”

We continued talking and walked to our cars. I wondered, and hoped, that we would really stay friends. And we have. I think we’re actually closer than we were when we were dating. We talk on the phone regularly, text our triumphs and ‘how you doing’s to each other often. We hang out, and true friend that he is, he helped me move this past weekend. We’ve had dinner and great, interesting conversations. I feel like I’m more myself around him than ever, because just like any other friend, I figure he’ll figure my faults and flaws. I don’t fear judgment. I can roll over to his place sans make-up and not give a crap since we’re just friends anyways.

And while the FB card is definitely on the table, I’ve filed it away for a rainy day. Today I’m totally cool being good friends.

Note: Hereto forward, GIBS will be known as GIWS (Guy I Was Seeing).

Optimize Your Space for Maximum Productivity – And Happiness

I made a big move this weekend, in the physical sense, as well as less literally. I moved to a new apartment in a new part of town, and it’s as if I’ve officially started a new phase in my life.

I don’t know if it’s my age, or the situation I found myself in, but I never really could find an apartment that I liked and that I could also afford. Plus, I was living with someone, so compromises had to be made (this place was closer to his work, that place was cheap enough for our budget, etc.). When we split, I had to find a place quick. The place I took was too expensive for my budget, so I downgraded severely as I tried to reign in my spending and get back on my feet financially after losing my job, my car, my dual income living situation and getting sober.

It took me a year. Soon after I celebrated my one-year anniversary last month, I signed a one-year lease on a condo on North Padre Island (the beach!). The past two weeks have been downright unbearable as I waited and waited for moving day to come. And tonight, going back to the old apartment I had come to disdain so much to do the final cleaning, time crept so slowly I thought it would stand still. Finally, I drove off, and immediately called a friend to announce I was leaving the old apartment for the last time. Hallelujah!

I guess the point I’m trying to make in a roundabout way is how our surroundings affect us. I took my previous apartment because it was cheap. That was the only reason. I figured for the price I could stand just about anything. Not so. I grew to dislike it so much that I never wanted to be there. Even when I needed to do work or read, I would go somewhere else to do it. I’m not sure exactly what it was – it could’ve been the grey carpet, or the circa-1978 fixtures, or the unrespectable neighbors. It could’ve been merely what it represented to me – a time in my life where frugality was the biggest necessity, an era of character-building hardship.

Even only half-way unpacked, I love spending time in my new home so much, I look forward to returning to it all day, unlike my previous apartment, which I dreaded going home to. For the first time in my life, everything seems like it belongs. The furniture belongs, the paintings belong, and the towels match. I belong. I guess it feels like my space, my own home. It’s a wonderful feeling.

As I move my company into a new area – office optimization – how your space affects you is something that I will be focusing on. Certain colors soothe (blue), while others energize (orange). There is an optimal set-up to achieve maximum productivity in every space. As I move into my new apartment, I’m trying to achieve this with my own space.

It’s about more than just achieving maximum productivity though. It’s about being able to enjoy the space that you’re working in. One of the coolest office set-ups I’ve ever seen is at Pixar, and Microsoft Research has some pretty cool ones too. My offices at work are painted in two shades of green – bright grass green and cool pastel green. It’s energizing and somehow always makes it feel fresh in there.

The best offices, in my opinion, are wireless and paperless. Why not set up Wi-Fi and give everybody laptops? Make spaces that go beyond traditional cubicles and desks. I had the opportunity to redesign a previous company’s space, and that was exactly what I lobbied for. Instead of desks, there were tables and comfortable sofa chairs. Instead of a separate office for every employee, the rooms were separated by function. There was a meeting room, a brainstorming room, a library/”quiet” room, a multimedia room, and a break room. Each one had a different tone to match its function. The brainstorming room was looser, had brighter colors and rearrangable furniture. The library had bean bags and sofas and dimmer lights to suggest quiet; the multimedia room had large glass tables for projects and plenty of direct light.

When your environment is inviting, it will be hard to get people to leave it, kind of like my new apartment and me. When the environment is functional, things will get done. When the environment is optimized, things will get done faster. Faster, productive employees who want to be at the office? Sounds good to me.

Check out real people's cool home offices [hat tip: Lifehacker.com].

Prepare to Stay Ahead

There has been some major backsliding going on in my life the past three or four weeks. Let’s just say some slacking has occurred… it’s like cancer. It started in one area of my life and spread quickly to the others. Part of this can be blamed on tragedy and illness, but that crutch has gotten old. It’s time to throw out the excuses and get things back on track now.

Sleep
I used to be the Queen of Good Rest. I always slept well and for the optimal time. I guarded my sleep schedule like it was Fort Knox. I defended it and nurtured it. It’s as if I’ve spent the past month beating the shit out of it and calling it a Bad Kid. It hates me now and acts like an angry toddler. When I do give myself the time to get a good night’s rest, I have problems either falling asleep or staying asleep. When I wake up, I don’t feel refreshed. I feel more tired. Last night I slept for 9 hours to make up for the 5 ½ hour sleep cycles I’ve been doing. I feel less awake. People even say I look tired. I need to get back on a schedule. I’m sure it has to do with the fact that it’s been erratic.

Diet
I’ve lost three more pounds. Most women would be excited by this. I am not. This has nothing to do with healthy weight loss – I’m not eating right. And I’m running distance. As a distance runner, weight loss is your enemy (after a certain point anyways). I am usually vigilant about my diet – 6 or 7 small, regimented meals per day. I make sure I eat enough protein, iron, dairy and good carbs. Lately, I’ve been skipping meals, not really eating anything healthy, etc. I can feel how awful it is for me. Eating well takes time. You need to get to the grocery regularly for fresh produce and plan your meals ahead if you have a jam-packed day like I do.

Running/exercise
I run four days a week like it’s my religion. Since everything happened last month, I have seriously slacked. It’s Thursday and I haven’t run at all this week. Now, this is serious business. I have a 5K and a relay marathon to run in May. I’m not where I need to be. Aside from that, running is my release. I feel energized and empowered when I’m done with a good run. I particularly enjoy the time I spend outside doing it. It’s relaxing. Skimping on this area of my life does exponential harm to me; it kills my relaxation and my health.

Budget
Ugh. To be fair, I’ve lost 18 pounds since I got sober. The first five came off right away (I was a beer drinker – muy fattening). The rest I lost in the past 5 months or so through the combination of a healthy diet and running. So, I’m down a few sizes in almost everything, especially work clothes. That’s where I’m blowing my money. I’m close to overdrafting my bank account, and that is a place I really hate to be.

General cleanliness
Please step away from the apartment, miss. Really, things are pretty messy on the home front. I’m never in my apartment and since I am moving next weekend, I decided not to worry about doing much until then. Really, all I’ve done is create more work for myself when I start packing. The car is in pretty bad shape too – a cleaning inside and out is definitely in